Pink was there, carefully jumping on a lovely old Valiant and being a strong woman. Gabriella Cilmi won like seventy awards and was charming and cute. The Veronicas Veronicad. Natalie Bassingthwaite was blonde and bored. It was quite entertaining.
But the thing is, those LIVE (ish!) performances. I don’t like ’em. Gone are the days when rock stars used to lurch about onstage wearing completely stupid outfits ( maybe things they found in their OWN cupboard that afternoon), half tanked, a bit pimply and unkempt and hairy in the wrong places.
You see, at the ARIAs the rockstars were all totally put-together. Every hair expertly distressed. Every lash gobbed with just the right amount of too-much-mascara. These kids had attitude. They were a little bit cross, a little bit pretty, a little bit aloof. The whole rock-star performing thing was totally serious for them. They were freeze frame ready at every move. Wound up and ready to rumble. Aware of their best angles. Not showing their fat bits. Chins up in avoidance of the dreaded double. Pelvis tilted slightly to minimise waists. Dancing and lurching in a carefully orchestrated rock star way. Wearing outfits that complimented their bandmates. Just a bit kind of sanitised and stereotyped. All tude, no smiles. I mean, what’s THAT all about?
Back in the day, I remember when Top of the Pops and Countdown meant heaps of raw energy, crap outfits, sweaty stupid dancers and a general lack of polish. I remember when everyone in the band used to just be grinning at the thrill of having 27 screaming fans in the studio audience. Bass guitarists falling off stage. Lead guitarist chatting up girls and forgetting to strum at the right bits. Drinks tipping over. Words forgotten. Giggling singers. Drum kits tipping over. A bit of an air of unpredictability. Ya know?
I remember when they used to look bloody stoked just to be on the telly. What happened to those days, huh?
Sheesh.
xx Mikes